‘What do I see?’ he repeated softly. There was great pain and sadness in his voice, not the bitterness she was accustomed to hearing. ‘I see time as it affects all things. Human flesh withers and dies before my eyes. Flowers bloom, only to fade. Trees drop green leaves, never to regain them. In my sight, it is always winter, always night.’
‘And—this was done to you in the Towers of High Sorcery?’ Laurana asked, shocked beyond measure. ‘Why? To what end?’
Raistlin smiled his rare and twisted smile. ‘To remind me of my own mortality. To teach me compassion.’ His voice sank. ‘I was proud and arrogant in my youth. The youngest to take the Test, I was going to show them all!’ His frail fist clenched. ‘Oh, I showed them. They shattered my body and devoured my mind until by the end I was capable of—’ He stopped abruptly, his eyes shifting to Caramon.
‘Of what?’ Laurana asked, fearing to know, yet fascinated.
‘Nothing,’ Raistlin whispered, lowering his eyes. ‘I am forbidden to speak of it.’
Laurana saw his hands tremble. Sweat beaded on his forehead. His breath wheezed and he began to cough. Feeling guilty for having inadvertently caused such anguish, she flushed and shook her head, biting her lip. ‘I-I’m sorry to have given you pain. I didn’t mean to.’ Confused, she looked down, letting her hair fall forward to hide her face—a girlish habit.
Raistlin leaned forward almost unconsciously, his hand stretching out, trembling, to touch the wondrous hair that seemed possessed of a life of its own, so vibrant and luxuriant was it. Then, seeing before his eyes his own dying flesh, he withdrew his hand quickly and sank back in his chair, a bitter smile on his lips. For what Laurana did not know, could not know, was that, in looking at her, Raistlin saw the only beauty he would ever see in his lifetime. Young, by elven standards, she was untouched by death or decay, even in the mage’s cursed vision.
Laurana saw nothing of this. She was aware only that he moved slightly. She almost got up and left, but she felt drawn to him now, and he still had not answered her question. ‘I—I meant—can you see the future? Tanis told me your mother was—what do they call it—prescient? I know that Tanis comes to you for advice...’
Raistlin regarded Laurana thoughtfully. ‘The half-elf comes to me for advice, not because I can see the future. I can’t. I am no seer. He comes because I am able to think, which is something most of these other fools seem incapable of doing.’
‘But—what you said. Some of us may not see each other again.’ Laurana looked up at him earnestly. ‘You must have foreseen something! What—I must know! Was it...Tanis?’
Raistlin pondered. When he spoke, it was more to himself than to Laurana. ‘I don’t know,’ he whispered. ‘I don’t even know why I said that. It’s just that—for an instant—I knew—’ He seemed to struggle to remember, then suddenly shrugged.
‘Knew what?’ Laurana persisted.
‘Nothing. My overwrought imagination as the knight would say if he were here. So Tanis told you about my mother,’ he said, changing the subject abruptly.
Laurana, disappointed but hoping to find out more if she kept talking to him, nodded her head. ‘He said she had the gift of foresight. She could look into the future and see images of what would come to pass.’
‘That is true,’ Raistlin whispered, then smiled sardonically. ‘Much good it did her. The first man she married was a handsome warrior from the northland. Their passion died within months, and after that they made life miserable for each other. My mother was fragile of health and given to slipping into strange trances from which she might not wake for hours. They were poor, living off what her husband could earn with his sword. Though he was clearly of noble blood, he never spoke of his family. I do not believe he even told her his real name.’
Raistlin’s eyes narrowed. ‘He told Kitiara, though. I’m sure of it. That is why she traveled north, to find his family.’
‘Kitiara...’ Laurana said in a strained voice. She touched the name as one touches an aching tooth, eager to understand more of this human woman Tanis loved. ‘Then, that man—the noble warrior—was Kitiara’s father?’ she said in a husky voice.
Raistlin regarded her with a penetrating gaze. ‘Yes,’ he whispered. ‘She is my elder half-sister. Older than Caramon and I by about eight years. She is very much like her father, I believe. As beautiful as he was handsome. Resolute and impetuous, warlike, strong and fearless. Her father taught her the only thing he knew—the art of warfare. He began going on longer and longer trips, and one day vanished completely. My mother convinced the Highseekers to declare him legally dead. She then remarried the man who became our father. He was a simple man, a woodcutter by trade. Once again, her farsight did not serve her.’
‘Why?’ Laurana asked gently, caught up in the story, amazed that the usually taciturn mage was so voluble, not knowing that he was drawing more out of her simply by watching her expressive face than he was giving in return.
‘The birth of my brother and I for one thing,’ Raistlin said. Then, overcome by a fit of coughing, he stopped talking and motioned to his brother. ‘Caramon! It is time for my drink,’ he said in the hissing whisper that pierced through the loudest talk. ‘Or have you forgotten me in the pleasure of other company?’
Caramon fell silent in mid-laugh. ‘No, Raist,’ he said guiltily, hurriedly rising from his seat to hang a kettle of water over the fire. Tika, subdued, lowered her head, unwilling to meet the mage’s gaze.
After staring at her a moment, Raistlin turned back to Laurana, who had watched all this with a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach. He began to speak again as if there had been no interruption. ‘My mother never really recovered from the childbirth. The midwife gave me up for dead, and I would have died, too, if it hadn’t been for Kitiara. Her first battle, she used to say, was against death with me as the prize. She raised us. My mother was incapable of taking care of children, and my father was forced to work day and night simply to keep us fed. He died in an accident when Caramon and I were in our teens. My mother went into one of her trances that day’—Raistlin’s voice dropped—‘and never came out. She died of starvation.’
‘How awful!’ Laurana murmured, shivering.
Raistlin did not speak for long moments, his strange eyes staring out into the chill, gray winter sky. Then his mouth twisted. ‘It taught me a valuable lesson—learn to control the power. Never let it control you!’
Laurana did not seem to have heard him. Her hands in her lap twisted nervously. This was the perfect opportunity to ask the questions she longed to ask, but it would mean giving up a part of her inner self to this man she feared and distrusted. But her curiosity—and her love—were too great. She never realized she was falling into a cunningly baited trap. For Raistlin delighted in discovering the secrets of people’s souls, knowing he might find them useful.
‘What did you do then?’ she asked, swallowing. ‘Did Kit-Kitiara...’ Trying to appear natural, she stumbled over the name and flushed in embarrassment.
Raistlin watched Laurana’s inner struggle with interest. ‘Kitiara was gone by then,’ he answered. ‘She left home when she was fifteen, earning her living by her sword. She is an expert—so Caramon tells me—and had no trouble finding mercenary work. Oh, she returned every so often, to see how we were getting along. When we were older, and more skilled, she took us with her. That was where Caramon and I learned to fight together—I using my magic, my brother his sword. Then, after she met Tanis’—Raistlin’s eyes glittered at Laurana’s discomfiture—‘she traveled with us more often.’
‘Traveled with whom? Where did you go?’
‘There was Sturm Brightblade, already dreaming of knighthood, the kender, Tanis, Caramon, and I. We traveled with Flint, before he retired from metalsmithing. The roads grew so dangerous that Flint gave up traveling. And, by this time, we had all learned as much as we could from our friends. We were growing restless. It was time to separate, Tanis said.’